


A Christmas Game

by turquoise_tales



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky hates the cat because he has a mouse, Bucky stress bakes, Bucky swears a lot, Clintasha - Freeform, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, He named it Myshka, M/M, Meet-Cute, Meet-Ugly, Myshka and Peggy are best friends, No Angst, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, So much fluff you'll get diabetes, Steve has a cat named Peggy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, these two idiots I swear, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoise_tales/pseuds/turquoise_tales
Summary: Bucky loses his pet mouse and yells at his very hot neighbour to keep his cat away from his baby. And Natasha regrets the day she met Bucky. It's a fluff fest.





	A Christmas Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seethatvangogh (the_pain_that_lies_within)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pain_that_lies_within/gifts).



> Aye aye, this is the fic I was talking about in Blood Bound and it's as fluffy as I promised it would be. It's unbeta'd and I didn't even proofread cause 5000 odd words were just too much for me. So just hit me up if you find any glaring mistakes.
> 
> This fic is for Adrian cause he needs some fluff in his life. 
> 
> Honestly, I started writing this fic way back in December and it was supposed to be posted by Valentine's day as a Birthday + Valentine's day gift but like, better late than never, right? haha. 
> 
> EDIT: Okay so my computer was being a bitch and posted this same story a bunch of times but they've all been deleted now. The duplicates, I mean. Sorry for that!
> 
> The working title for this was "and I don't even celebrate christmas wtf"
> 
> Enjoy!

“...and I got you fancy food for Hanukkah, Myshka!” Bucky announced as he stepped into the apartment 2A, his arms laden with multiple, bulging shopping bags. He blew air at the wisps of hair that had escaped his bun and were currently trying to attack his eyes and mouth. Finally managing to make it into the small apartment, lit by the warm, yellow fairy lights that were strung all over the apartment, Bucky closed the door with his foot and proceeded to dump all the bags onto the dining table wedged into the small space between the living room and the kitchen. Unwinding his fancy maroon muffler from around his neck, he set it down on top of the bags and tugged at his black sweater as he turned to look at the…huge empty cage whose door was wide open.

 

“Oh  _ fuck no! _ ” Bucky swore, dropping to his knees and instantly starting to check in all the small places, under the couch, inside the kitchen counters. “Myshka! Myshka! Come on, you useless rodent! Where are you?”

 

Myshka was initially just a baby white mouse that Bucky had bought at the insistence of his therapist. Something about taking care of another living thing or something- he doesn’t really remember. It had been six months now and Bucky had somehow become absolutely invested in the mouse. He had originally decided on a mouse because of their short lifespans but now he really doesn’t know what he’ll do when Myshka dies. Afterall, Myshka had been been there through the good and the bad last six months- snuggling up to him, curling into his neck and chewing on his hair or his metal arm- whatever was more fascinating that day. And now, he absolutely loved the mouse.

 

It was just as Bucky was about to use his metal hand to make light spots- Myshka had always been attracted to shiny things- that he heard the high pitched scream of distress from the apartment next door. Cursing everything to hell, Bucky made his way out of the door hurriedly and knocked on 2B’s door which had a very christmassy, very plastic wreath pinned to the door. The door opened to reveal the blue eyed Adonis that Bucky had been drooling over for the last three months ever since the new neighbour had moved in. The blonde was taller than Bucky, his body had a beauty akin to marble statues carved by the Great Masters and his face wasn’t any less praiseworthy. For a moment Bucky forgot to speak. This was the exact reason Bucky had been avoiding running into the Greek God that was his neighbour.

 

“Huh, can I help you?” Hot Neighbour asked after a moment of silence.

 

“Uh, yeah… I heard you scream?” Bucky tripped over his own words and looked on in awe as the Neighbour flushed, the red starting at the apple of his cheeks and travelling down only disappear into his frankly ugly green christmas sweater. But he pulled it off somehow. Actually, it wasn’t that big of a surprise that he did. “Are you okay?”

 

“What? Oh yeah, yeah,” Greek God looked back into his apartment suspiciously. “I found Peggy- my cat- holding a mouse or something. I thought she’d killed it but-”

 

“Myshka!” Bucky gasped, pushing past the blond and running into the apartment.

 

“Hey!” the blond turned back in indignation but Bucky was more focused on looking for any sign of blood.

 

“Where is he?” Bucky turned to the Neighbour, fear and anger warring in his eyes. “Did your cat- did-”

 

“They were… um, cuddling,” Steve started, looking confused. “That’s your mouse?”

 

“ _ Cuddling! _ ” Bucky shrieked incredulously. “Of course he’s my mouse! Fucking piece of shit rodent that he is!  _ Myshka! _ ” 

 

Catching a small movement under the cabinet near the sofa, Bucky dove down, sliding on the floor, his flesh hand reaching under and grabbing- albeit, gently- the white mouse hiding against the wall, all the while ignoring Steve’s stunned form by the door. 

 

“There you are, you fucknut.” Bucky grunted as Myshka squealed, running up Bucky's arm to curl up against his neck. “Don't run away like that again!”

 

“Meow”

 

Bucky stood up, turning towards the sound. A long haired black cat sat on the top of the sofa, looking at Bucky curiously, her bushy tail flicking lazily. Bucky stepped back, his hand curling over the mouse on his shoulder protectively and accidentally bumped into the firm chest of the Neighbour.

 

“Oomph.” If Bucky took a few seconds more than necessary to unstick himself from the blond- well, it wasn't his fault. “You!” Bucky stated accusing, his index finger jabbing into the soft ugly sweater (and getting distracted by the perfection that seemed to be under the cloth in the process). “Keep your fucking cat away from my baby.”

 

With that, Bucky turned on his heel and walked out of the door, his head held high all the way to his own apartment. Closing the door, he slumped against it, letting out a small whine of disappointment at himself. It wasn't technically the Neighbour's fault that his pet had found his way into a stranger's house- that too a stranger with a bloody cat! And now he had went and ruined all chances he had with the Hot Neighbour.  _ This is what you get for being socially inept, Barnes! _

 

Prying Myshka away from his neck, he held him at his eye level. “Myshka Natalia Barnes! You are a cranberry fucknut of the highest level and you've ruined my one chance of a happy ending with Mr. Blue-eyed All American Beefcake next door. And I got you fancy food for Hanukkah!” Bucky lamented. Straightening up, he walked to the cage and put the squirming rodent in, making sure to shut the door and bolt it for good measure. “What were you doing  _ cuddling _ up with a fucking cat anyway?! Those things  _ eat  _ you. Yeah! Where's your instinct of self preservation? Asshat!” 

 

Bucky moved around the kitchen, banging pots and pans, pulling out ingredients for his mom's pasta sauce until he tripped over a tomato that had rolled out of one of the shopping bags and was strategically waiting in the middle of the kitchen for the only purpose of adding more misery to Bucky's life. Throwing out his metal hand to break the fall, Bucky did a one hand push up before noticing the spider cracks that spread on the tile from under his hand and groaned loudly.  _ Holy fuckity shitpouch! What had he done to incur so much wrath from the world?? Except kill a few thousand people, but Lord!  _ He loosened his hand, letting himself fall face first into the floor, the tomato crushing against thigh-  _ and there go his favourite jeans.  _

 

It was pathetic and he hadn't even managed to get the Hot Neighbour's name. 

 

“It's all your fault, Myshka,” he muttered pettily.

 

***

 

Bucky was elbows deep mixing cookie batter when the doorbell rang. Bucky groaned, resolutely ignoring it as he concentrated on folding the dough evenly, making sure that the chocolate chips didn’t get concentrated on one side. The only person he knew well enough to visit his house were Natasha and Clint. Natasha already had a key to his place so she could come kick him out of the house when he had had a long stretch of bad days and was either cooped up under blankets on his bed or had baked enough to feed a small country; and Clint didn’t ring the doorbell. So whoever was at the door could go fuck themselves because Bucky wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone’s bullshit today. He was stress baking choco chip cookies that he would end up giving out at the VA  _ again _ because there was only so much Natasha, Clint and him could binge at a time. Maybe he could give them to the neighbour as an apology-  _ forget it, he messed up any fucking chance he had had. _

 

The doorbell rang again, making Bucky scowl as he washed his hands and wiped them before trying to stomp noiselessly to the door. Squinting through the peephole, Bucky quietly gasped when he spotted the Hot Neighbour standing there somewhat awkwardly, holding a brightly wrapped gift, half the size of his palm. Bucky let his hand hesitantly rest on the bolt, trying to gather the courage to open the door when the blond shifted on his feet, pulling a scrap of paper and pen from his jeans-  _ those jeans were gonna be the death of Bucky _ \- pocket and scribbling something on the paper. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from how adorable the neighbour looked frowning slightly in concentration.

 

When he was done, the blonde bent down to slide the paper through the crack under Bucky's door, distracting Bucky as the paper hit his shoe. Moving away his shoe so the paper could slide in smoothly, Bucky looked back through the peephole, only to find the Neighbour retreating, taking that hot ass in those tight jeans away with him. Bucky spent a few moments contemplating what could have been before he noticed the brightly wrapped paper that Neighbour was holding was now in front of his door. Making a split second decision, Bucky opened his door enough for his hand to slide out and grab the present before closing the door as quietly as possible. Settling down cross legged in front of the door, Bucky reached for the paper, tracing his fingers over the elegant script and the tiny cartoonish drawing of a cat and a rat… cuddling.  _ Oh no. How did he manage to draw so well in such short time anyway? _

 

_ Hey. I just wanted to say sorry for what happened yesterday :(. Here's an apology gift (it's for your mouse) :) _

 

_ Steve. _

 

Bucky stared at the note in his hand. Steve was apologising. To him. And he had used smiley faces.  _ Who was this guy? And why did he have such a boring name? _

 

“I think it’s poop, Myshka,” he said to the mouse, still resolutely ignoring him in the cage. “Probably the cat’s.”

 

Carefully unwrapping the present, Bucky pulled out the tiniest sweater he had ever seen from the box. An honest to god ugly red and green Christmas sweater with ugly gold baubles embroidered onto it. Bucky gaped at the piece of cloth in his hand before looking over at Myshka to see if his awe and stunned state were a shared phenomenon. But Myshka was more interested in the just out of reach wire outside his cage. 

 

Getting up, Bucky unlocked Myshka’s cage, picking up the mouse in one hand and trying to manuvere the sweater onto the wriggling animal. After a solid ten minutes of a struggling mouse and a miraculously undamaged sweater, Bucky held up his phone, taking a picture of Myshka in the sweater and sent it to Natasha. His phone pinged a moment later with a single question mark but Bucky ignored the text in favour of admiring how cute Myshka looked in the sweater.

 

“I still hate you,” Bucky told the mouse, leaving the cage door unlocked after checking if all pathways out of the apartment were closed. However, Myshka just slinked back into the cage to curl up on his bed. “Guess you're warm now, huh?”

 

Bucky didn't know what to do now. But he forced himself to put it out of his mind as he returned to his cookies and it wasn't until he looked up from the tenth batch of cookies and caught sight of Myshka chewing through the arm if the sofa that it actually hit him.  _ The Hot Neighbour had given his fucking rodent a fucking gift. What was Bucky meant to do in this situation? Why wasn't this in army training anyway? “ _ Situation 101: How to reciprocate when your crush leaves a peace offering at your door after you've yelled at them for no fault of theirs.” God knows it would have helped better than the other stuff helped his left arm. Maybe he ought to call Natasha. She would now what to do. Probably. 

 

“ _ James,”  _  Natasha answered on the third ring. Maybe Bucky should have made sure that it wasn't 12:30am before calling her for he had never heard a single word carry such a deep promise of pain in his life before. 

 

“Sorry for calling so late, Nat. I'm okay, though,” Bucky said quickly, putting any concern Natasha had at ease. 

 

“Then you better have an amazing reason for calling, Barnes or they won't find your body,” Natasha grumbled into the phone. Bucky could hear Clint mumbling grouchily in the background. “Or your shiny arm.”

 

“Myshka found himself in the Hot Neighbour's house yesterday and decided it was perfectly acceptable to cuddle with the cat. And then I yelled at the Neighbour for no reason but my abominable social skills but he left a sweater for Myshka at my doorstep today and I don't know what to do, Nat!” Bucky spewed out in one breath. 

 

The silence on the line stretched for an entirely uncomfortable period for Bucky who was for sure fearing for his life now. 

 

“Kay, have a merry Christmas, wrap him up in some ribbons and have a fuckathon. 'Night James.”

Bucky looked at incredulously at the phone in his hand when he heard the telltale click of Nat hanging up on him. Sometimes, he really did wonder about his taste in friends. 

 

Maybe he should wrap the cookies and leave it at his Neighbour's doorstep- but what if someone stole them? Or maybe he should suck it up and go apologise and-

 

There was another scream from the apartment next door. This wasn't a surprised shriek though, this was a scream of terror, of horror, of something that was so deeply ingrained into Bucky- nightmares. This time, Bucky was banging on the door of apartment 2B instinctively even before this brain had caught up with his actions. He heard heavy footsteps make their way to the door before he could retreat. The door opened to reveal a wide-eyed, red faced Steve with his hair sticking out in every direction, a few strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.  His shirt was soaked in sweat and his chest was still heaving as laboured breaths escaped from his slightly parted mouth. He was clutching the frame of the half open door so tightly that Bucky was afraid that his bone would break out of skin. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said eventually, his voice still wobbly and strained. “Did I wake you?”

 

Bucky’s eyes hardened. The look of fear that Steve was trying to conceal was definitely something that wouldn’t be recurring if he could help it. “Did you have a nightmare?”

 

Steve hesitated before mumbling a quiet “yes”. “I’m sorry for disturbing you-”

 

“Don’t apologise,” Bucky snapped, pushing past Steve into the apartment while mentally slapping himself for his behaviour. What the fuck was he doing? “Get to bed, I’ll make you some fucking soup.” He grumbled, refusing to look at the stunned for of Steve as he made his way into the kitchen. Since all the apartments had the same floor layout, it saved him the embarrassment of actually confronting his actions. He ignored the she-devil of a cat that was currently mewing while rubbing against Steve’s legs. Opening the fridge, Bucky stared at the depressingly empty fridge that housed nothing more than fruits, some eggs and bread and a carton of milk. Hearing Steve clear his throat, he spun around, his face suddenly guilty as if he was child with his hand caught down the cookie jar. 

 

“Um, I’m not that great of a cook, you won’t find anything there…” Steve said looking utterly bewildered, the cat curled up in his arms, now purring insistently. “Listen, you don’t have to-”

 

“It’s fine, I have the ingredients at my place,” Bucky said quickly, starting to shut the fridge door and make his way around Steve, willing his pounding heart to calm down.

 

“This isn’t some weird way of retaliation for the sweater, is it-”

 

Bucky froze. “Oh fucking hell!  _ Myshka!” _ he swore loudly, dashing out of the apartment into his own, leaving an utterly dumbfounded Steve following in his wake. The last time he’d seen Myshka, the mouse had been chewing the sofa and he had definitely  _ not  _ closed his door when he had ran to Steve’s apartment. And now if Myshka-  _ that little shitbag- _ had escaped again, it was entirely his own fucking fault. 

 

“Myshka?” Bucky called out desperately as soon as he stepped through the door, his hair all disarray and almost cried out in relief when there was a series of squeaks from the direction of his room in reply. Slumping against the wall in relief, Bucky sent a quick thanks up to whatever god was there before making his way to his room only to find the mouse happily chewing through his computer wires. When he heard a hesitant knock on his apartment door, he picked up Myshka and stuffed the mouse into his breast pocket before walking back to the living room. There he found Steve still holding his devil cat, standing awkwardly at the door but as soon as he saw Bucky, his eyes flickered down to his chest and lingered at the pocket that Myshka was not half hanging out of like a baby kangaroo. His eyes flickered over Bucky’s metal arm before finding their way back to Bucky’s face. Bucky braced himself for the question that almost always followed.

 

“Uh, you okay?” Steve asked instead. Bucky looked up at Steve slightly surprised before smiling a little.

 

“Yeah, I was just making sure Myshka hadn’t run out again,” Bucky said before looking away uncertainly. “Sorry about, uh, yelling at you, by the way.”

 

“Oh,” Steve smiled widely, almost blinding Bucky. “It’s o- what if I said apology not accepted?” he said cheekily.

 

Bucky scowled even as his heart fluttered. “Get your ass back to bed. I’ll make the fucking soup.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Steve started but Bucky was already in the kitchen, taking out pans, ignoring the blonde.

 

“Nat- I mean, my friend always makes me this soup after a nightmare. You’ll feel better,” Bucky said turning around to give Steve a pointed look only to catch him staring at his metal arm again. 

  
“What?” he bit out, aggression creeping into his voice.

  
“N-nothing,” Steve replied wide-eyed at being caught. “Do I get cookies too?” He asked jerking his chin towards the dozen or so baking trays piled with cookies.   
  


Bucky flushed. “Yeah okay,” he muttered turning back to the stove. And even if he couldn’t see Steve’s grin, he could feel it burning into his back like the sun. Steve was the embodiment of sunshine anyway. Bucky didn’t turn even when he heard the quiet footsteps retreating and the purring slowly fading. That is why, when he found Steve, with Peggy still in his arms staring morosely at the closed door of his apartment, ten minutes later he was confused to say the least. 

 

“Steve?” 

 

The blonde looked up quickly before staring at his shoes sheepishly. “Uh… I got locked out of my apartment? I didn’t think I had shut the door but…” Steve trailed off. “I’m just gonna go get the spare keys from the landlord-”

 

“It’s almost 1am. Are you fucking crazy?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “You can sleep on my couch.”

 

“Uh- you really don’t have to-” Steve started to say, prompting Bucky to roll his eyes and walk back into his own apartment, leaving the door wide open. By the time Steve finally walked in, Bucky had already set down the tray of soup and cookies on the coffee table and had an armful of blankets and a pillow that he proceeded to dump on the couch. 

 

“Listen, I’m really sorry for yelling at you before-” Bucky started to say but Steve interrupted him, his head shaking from side to side, his hair flopping onto his forehead. Bucky willed himself not to walk right up to his hot neighbour and curl up against him and pet his hair. 

 

“It’s okay, really,” Steve reassured him. “You didn’t really have to do all of this.”

“Oh I’m not doing this because I feel guilty,” Bucky said awkwardly. “I just wanted to help.”  _ and maybe you get you to go out with me,  _ he added in his head. “You should drink your soup.”

 

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” Steve flushed adorably shuffling to the couch after shutting the front door softly. “Are you gonna have some cookies with me too?”

 

“Um, I wouldn’t want to disturb-”

 

“No, please, I insist,” Steve turned his baby blue eyes wide and utterly persuasive at Bucky and Bucky found himself thinking that he would do anything Steve asked if he looked at him like that. So Bucky found himself sitting on the chair perpendicular to the couch with his own plate of cookies as Steve diligently worked through the bowl of soup. 

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked hesitantly after a few minutes of silence. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“The nightmare. You were in the army weren’t you?” 

 

Steve stiffened and Bucky immediately regretted his words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he backtracked. “It’s just that you have this look about you. I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m gonna just shut up now- I’m sorry, oh god please say something-”

 

“Hey,” Steve interrupted him and then looked away, somewhat ashamed and embarrased. “Um- I don’t know your name.”

 

Bucky blinked at him for a minuted before snorting and trying to cover it up with a cough. “James Barnes, but call me Bucky.”

 

Steve nodded seriously, setting down the now empty soup bowl and shifting to the edge of the couch so his outstretched hand would reach Bucky. “Steve Rogers,” he said and then his mouth twisted into a smirk, drawing Bucky’s eyes down to those enticing, red lips. “I don’t have a fun nickname.”

 

Bucky reached out and grasped the offered hand, reveling in the feel of Steve’s strong artistic fingers gripping his. “I guess Stevie will have to do,” he smirked back and noticed when Steve’s eyes also shifted to his mouth just for a second before snapping back up. Being the little shit he was, he darted his tongue out surreptitiously licking his lips and when Steve’s eyes shifted back to his lips and stayed there for entirely too long to be a coincidence, Bucky tucked the piece of information to the back of his head.

 

Steve cleared his throat and reluctantly pulled his hand back. “Um, did you really name your mouse…  _ mouse?”  _

 

“You know Russian?” Bucky raised his eyebrows, suddenly impressed.

Steve shifted in his seat awkwardly. “I googled it,” he mumbled looking away again.

 

Bucky tried to smother his laugh. “Yeah, my therapist said this little fucker would be good for my fucked up brain but all he does is stress it out more,” Bucky grinned.

 

“Oh,” Steve said, floundering for words. “Yeah, I was in the army,” he settled on finally.

 

Bucky looked at him, all trace of humor wiped from his face. “Me too, pal,” he offered with a wry smile. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here if you wanna talk about it.”

 

“You barely know me,”  Steve looked up but there was no ill intent in his eyes, only genuine confusion. Bucky only shrugged and dug into his plate of cookies. He could feel Steve’s eyes on his metal arm and the unasked question hanging heavy in the air between them but he ignored it refusing to look up from his plate. When Steve finally spoke, it wasn’t a question Bucky was expecting. 

 

“You wanna watch a movie?” Steve asked hesitantly. “I mean, I understand if you want to sl-”

 

“Yeah sure,” Bucky breathed already excited at the prospect of sitting in the same space as Steve and  _ watching a movie like it was a date. _ Bucky tamped down on his excitement, moving to the couch but sitting at the other end of the couch. He switched on the television and turned around to ask Steve which movie he wanted to watch when Steve spoke even before he had the chance to voice the question.

 

“Let’s watch Captain Dumbass: The First Avenger!” Steve said, turning those baby blues and Bucky and Bucky just swallowed, nodding. 

 

                                                                ***

 

Somewhere around the time when Captain Dumbass punched Hitler in the face, Bucky told Steve how he’d lost his arm by barging into enemy territory and pushing his team out of the way of an IED. Steve made a noise of acknowledgement and slid closer to him.

 

                    ***

 

When Captain Dumbass jumped out of the plane on his way to save his best best friend, Steve told him about the two tours and how he lost half his team and about the nightmares that will forever haunt him. Bucky just chose to pat the unfairly hot bicep beside him. 

 

                               ***

 

By the time Captain Dumbass and his team, the Always Commandos were waiting for the train in the Alps, Bucky had somehow found himself snuggled up against Steve, with Steve’s head on his shoulder and his flesh arm around those deliciously large shoulders. 

 

“This scene is fucking dumb,” Bucky muttered, trying not to cry.

 

“It's okay, you can cry,” Steve teased and earned himself a cuff on the side of his head. He only chuckled.

 

                                                              ***

 

By the time, Captain Dumbass aimed down to the cold Arctic, Bucky had his legs curled up in Steve's lap, Steve’s head cushioned on his chest, cuddled up close with the blanket around them. Myshka and the Devil Cat were snuggling beside them and Bucky kept an eye on the pair so that Myshka wouldn’t get eaten. Steve had told him she was more interested in collecting leaves and rocks than mice but Bucky was not going to trust a  _ fucking cat _ . He wasn’t stupid. 

 

“The next sequel is in the theatres right now,” Steve murmured sleepily.

 

Bucky hummed. “Captain Dumbass: The Weiner Soldier?”

 

“Yeah, we should go tomorrow,” Steve yawned shifting his huge body to settle more comfortably against Bucky. 

 

Bucky yawned back, scratching his nails against Steve’s scalp absentmindedly, making Steve produce a sound that could have almost been a moan. A part of Bucky’s brain perked up with interest but he was too sleepy to do more than run his fingers through Steve’s hair again.

 

“Breakfast at the Sokovian place down the street?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve murmured in agreement, wincing as the plane hit the ocean on the screen.

 

                                                                    ***

 

Bucky woke up with his back protesting at the injustice of being subjected to the unfortable couch cushions the whole night, barely able to breathe because of the dead weight of the blonde hunk of muscle snoring softly over him. Bucky, could not for the life of him fathom how them fit so perfectly against each other even in such an uncomfortable place. He was also very aware of every point of their bodies touching and if he didn’t get out of this mess soon, there would be embarrassing problems he  _ really didn’t want to deal with. _ Not when he’d been given a second chance, not when there was a second ray of sunshine in the fuckfest that was his life (the first was, obviously, Myshka). Not to mention, this ray of sunshine was as bright as the sun itself and he would do anything in his power to bask in its warmth for the rest of his life.  _ Calm down, Barnes, _ he chastised himself.  _ You’ve barely even gone on a date yet. _

 

At that thought, Bucky finally remembered the entirety of last night and felt his excitement skyrocket along with his heartbeat. He shook Steve softly. “Hey pal, you’re kinda crushing me here.”

 

Steve only groaned, shifting and elbowing Bucky’s ribs in the process and not to mention accidentally grind his hips against Bucky’s. Bucky didn’t know if he should gasp in pain or moan in pleasure so he settled for something in between that sounded like a strangled cat. Steve startled awake at the sound, slipping off Bucky in the process and landing on the floor on his ass with an undignified shriek (that he would deny later but Bucky would never let him live it down). Bucky only laughed as Steve groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

“Fuck you, man,” Steve grumbled with no real heat and Bucky only laughed harder.

 

“Oh god,” Bucky gasped sitting up. “That was hilarious!”

 

“Yeah yeah, yak it up,” Steve rolled his eyes. “Jerk.”

 

“Punk,” Bucky shot back still trying to stop laughing.

 

Steve grinned at him for a second before his face dissolved into doubt. “Did you really mean it when you agreed for the date last night?”

 

It was Bucky this time that squeaked, “Date?” He hadn’t known it was a date, not that it was a bad thing. It was definitely the opposite of a bad thing- it was the  _ best thing. _

 

“I mean,” Steve started and Bucky could see him visibly shrink in on himself and jumped up into action.

 

“No, no, I mean, yes, I do-” Stopping in his word vomit, Bucky to a breath before continuing. “I did mean it when I said yes. I would love to go out on a date with you.”

 

“Okay,” Steve grinned, his shoulders relaxed and he sat up. “I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky grinned back, but neither of them moved.

 

                                                                      ***

 

After an amazing day- Bucky would say the best day of his life so far, Bucky found himself on Steve’s bed and with a mischievous grin, pulled something out of his pocket.

 

“Since it’s christmas, I wanna try something,” he said showing Steve what he held in his hand.

 

Steve laughed but agreed eagerly.

 

                                                                      ***

  
Natasha had never regretted her words this much in her entire life. It took two bottle of vodka downed within fifteen minutes and a laughing Clint trying to stop her from gouging her eyeballs out to repress the picture of a naked Steve, tied up in ribbons, his face twisted in pleasure, with Bucky grinning at the camera, standing strategically so that at least the most scarring parts were covered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I thrive on comments so I'll love you forever if you leave one lol. 
> 
> tbh the crack movie names were inspired by some other fic I read but for the love of god cannot remember anything about. So if anyone knows what I'm vaguely rambling about hit me up so I can give credit, thanks. 
> 
> If you haven't read Blood Bound and are craving Vampire! Steve, you can check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8565211/chapters/19635430)
> 
> You can request fics, come yell at me about Stucky, or the unfairly pretty face of Sebastian Stan or even just talk to me on [tumblr](https://turquoise-tales.tumblr.com)


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